


Sleep

by StopLookingHere



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, Hospitals, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 23:58:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9045464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StopLookingHere/pseuds/StopLookingHere
Summary: The sleeping face is often the most peaceful face, especially when someone's around to witness it. Sick!Dan from 2010 in Manchester, based loosely off Dan's hospital video. Phil cares for him and fluff ensues.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hello! happy christmas everyone, this one's fresh baked and definitely more of a memory than an intense thing like my last two phanfics.   
> please enjoy your food and gifts today. you're all so lovely. xoxo

Originally, Phil had only been a little worried about Dan cancelling their weekend plans, citing that his stomach was being touchy and he didn’t want to get Phil sick. Sure, it was slightly disappointing, but Phil had work, and he definitely couldn’t afford to get sick, especially now that he was paying for a full apartment’s rent alone. After Dan had updated him that his sickness was merely an infection and it should be fixed within the week thanks to the magic of flucloxacillin, his worries practically disappeared.

Yet, here he was, sitting next to his best friend in a corner of Accidents and Emergencies nearly a week later, attempting to fill out medical forms to the best of his ability for Dan, occasionally handing over the clipboard for him to fix the bits he missed and sign off on the papers. It was certainly not the weekend that Phil had expected to have with his best friend.

The Manchester Royal Infirmary was the closest medical center near them that Phil could get them to at a quick rate, so that was where they ended up. In theory, it was supposed to be a decent hospital, and yeah, it looked clean, but the patrons were something else. Many were dressed in ratty clothing with sallow skin and visible signs of some form of drug addiction marking their skin, or they were so visibly sick that it made one uncomfortable and paranoid to be near them. He wasn’t one to judge people based on their appearance, but between the pain and worry, Dan and Phil quietly joked that they feared for their lives in this place. Of course, they were a sight themselves, and it must have been quite an odd among these people to see two young men with matching haircuts and way too skinny pants sitting in the corner, one looking visibly paler than the other for the first time in… well, ever.

Time in A&E passed at an alarmingly slow rate. As the waiting room emptied one person after another, Dan grew visibly irritated until he was finally treated by a nurse, who allowed Phil to follow them as he was his transportation and emergency contact. After what Phil personally felt was a grotesque insertion of an IV into Dan’s hand and a quick rundown of what was going to happen in the next day, they were whisked off to a room upstairs and left to their own devices.

“What an infection, eh?” Dan joked as he gingerly sat down on the hospital bed. “Sorry about the coffees.”

Phil shook the curtain of black hair that never quite seemed to escape his peripheral vision at the apology. The generic padded chair under him creaked. “Don’t worry about the coffees. I can’t believe you actually get surgery.”

His friend shrugged, toying at the string ties of the hospital gown laid next to where he was sitting. “Can you close the curtain? I don’t want to get up.”

He obliged, grateful to be useful at this point. Phil hated just sitting around, and while he wouldn’t ever quite explain to the younger man just how worried he was, he was pretty damn worried. It must have shown on his face when Dan asked him to help him out of his clothing, his expression one of apology as he struggled with leaning over to get his skinnies off. It was not the first time he’d struggled with the jeans, but this was definitely a different reason than the usual.

Five minutes later, he was in a white hospital gown with offsetting green squares and safely tucked into his bed, updating his twitter status and having Phil obtain a stack of magazines from the ward desk for later reading material.

“I have to get going,” Phil announced after about an hour, stretching his legs out before getting up from the rickety seat. “I don’t have work til noon tomorrow, but they’re going to kick me out soon anyways.” He didn’t exactly want to leave, but there was no point in staying here just waiting for the surgery if he could be at home sleeping in his own bed after eating some decent dinner.

Dan nodded. “Yeah, alright. I’ll text you before I go in tomorrow, okay? They said at eight am, but…”

“…Yeah, I’m a bit of a worrier,” Phil finished for him, feeling his ears go red. His friend just merely grinned at him and held his arms out in an invitation for a hug.

The brown haired man still smelled of his usual cheap cologne and Phil buried his nose where it was strongest, at his neck, extremely aware of the location his head was in.

“Have a good night,” Phil murmured into soft skin, lightly brushing his lips there. Dan paused under Phil before quietly pushing him off, shaking his head in a familiar version of no. That was the _no, not in public especially after the valentine’s video_ , the _please not my neck I do not need to pop a boner in a hospital bed_.

The car ride home was uneventful, and Phil felt like his mind was separated from his body as he ghosted his way back through Manchester. The car smelled like Dan too, a borrowed piece of machine that sent a pang to his chest every time he noticed something about it. Yes, those were his hands controlling the wheel of the car, and yes, those were his feet working the pedals, but it was entirely autopilot. His mind was fixated on multiple points, but it was mostly that smell, and the way Dan had vainly attempted to personalize his junker of a car with stickers on the dash and boiled sweets in the cup holders.

Phil didn’t really feel like the two parts of him were back together until his phone pinged at 7:47am, waking him from a restless sleep and alerting him that Dan was going into surgery prep. The text was short and sweet, calling him a spork and reminding him that this was a minor surgery, and there was no real reason to worry.

He got to the hospital at 8:24am, taking the key out of the ignition and stepping into the brisk November air. The hospital staff were friendly despite the early hour, even letting him come in hours before visitation was allowed and directing him to Dan’s new room. It occurred to him that the same staff that were on shift last night were here too. Too late, he concluded that they probably recognized him from that.

His worries immediately dissipated when he saw Dan sleeping in the hospital bed, his color back, and for once, a completely neutral expression on his face.

“He’s just got out of surgery ten minutes ago, but he’s stable. He won’t wake up for another half hour though, the anesthesia is pretty strong,” The nurse informed him after reading the chart at the foot of his bed. She was a pretty young woman, with dark circles under her eyes and hair the color of straw tied into a ponytail that must have sat high on her head at the beginning of her shift twelve hours ago.

Phil nodded, unsure of what to say next. The nurse gave him a small smile. “The cafeteria opens at eleven thirty. Call me if you need anything.” She paused at the doorway, turning to meet Phil’s eye. “Are you his partner? Or just his friend?”

He swallowed the bubble of emotion threatening to release itself through his voice. “Just his friend.”

“I had one of those people in my life at one point too, you know. Those friends that I cared about so much, it completely took over my head. I ended up marrying him,” she explains before leaving. Phil stared after her.  

The chair next to Dan’s new bed wasn’t as creaky as the one from the temporary A&E unit. Phil sat, scooting the chair as quiet as he could next to the bed. He paused there for a moment, appreciating his friend’s sleeping form. He rarely got to see him without a grin of silly amusement or a scowl of annoyance, and he rarely got to appreciate the little things, like how dark his eyelashes were and how his hair had a slight wave through it when he didn’t attack it with a flat iron two mornings in a row. He pushed the hair that had fallen over his face back over his head, feeling like his heart was melting at the sight. Phil had always liked when Dan was stressed over university work, because he tended to push his hand up through his hair and not care that it stood there, pulled back to show off his features for once.

He continued that for a bit, running one hand through his hair, the other idly replying to texts on Dan’s phone from his parents, confirming that everything was okay. At one point, he even took a photo of his sleeping form, figuring it’d be funny to explain how it got on his camera roll.

After about an hour, Dan stirred, opening his eyes and attempting to focus on Phil. “Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey,” Phil replied. “You’re alright now.”

Dan stretched, wincing and withdrawing his arms when he remembered that, oh yeah, he’d just had his body cut open and stitched back up. “Kinda. This hurts like a bitch,” he muttered as he pressed the button by the side of his bed to call a nurse.

The straw haired nurse came soon, adding morphine into his IV drip swiftly and asking if he needed anything to eat. Soon, there was a tray with toast, jam, and rice pudding in front of Dan, and Phil was suddenly aware that he’d forgotten to eat any cereal that morning as his stomach quietly growled.

“Pass me my phone?” Dan asked. “Gotta keep Twitter in the loop.”

Phil obliged, watching Dan tweet about “surviving” surgery and the taste of the food (absolutely awful). He didn’t push his hair back down around his face. “You have work at noon,” Dan interrupted the silence with. He internally groaned. Right, work.

“I don’t want to go to work,” Phil whined.

Dan shook his head. “I’m just going to go back to sleep and hope the morphine kicks in soon. Go get some food, go to work, and you can take me back to my dorm once you get off.”

He sighed. Dan was right, even if he didn’t quite want him to be right.

It wasn’t until late in the afternoon that Phil finally took Dan back to his university dorm. After a couple eventful hours of listening to Dan on a way too high dosage of morphine, the younger man was discharged from the hospital with a long list of prescriptions for Phil to pick up later after dropping Dan off back at his dorm. At this point, both men were mostly tired; Dan from his safe, consensual adventures with drugs, and Phil from the stresses and worries of having your best friend in the hospital.

“I think I’m just going to sleep this off,” Dan announced the minute they got into his room. “They said the pain shouldn’t be that bad without pills, but we’ll get those in the morning, so…”

Phil nodded, setting down Dan’s keys on his bedside table and perching by his bed, where Dan had already climbed under the covers, jeans and all. He’d been fading fast all evening, and in the comfort of his own bed, Phil knew it wouldn’t be long until he’d passed out. “Get some sleep then, I’ll stop by in the morning.”

 “Stop being so damn pretty, Dan Howell,” he muttered, glancing at Dan’s comfortable form again an trying not to linger too long, for fear that he’d never be able to leave.

“S’not my fault,” Dan mumbled into his pillow. “You’re the one who’s staring.”

With a sigh, he rose from his position on the floor and made way to leave. “Night, Dan. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Dan opened his eyes again, long lashes parting to reveal hazy brown discs. “Wait,” he called just as Phil reached the door. “Where’s my goodnight…” he trailed off, biting his lip.

He made his knees weak, and before Phil could even think a solid thought, he’d crossed the room again and Dan’s velvety lips were brushing over his. God, he craved this, and so much more. It wasn’t common for Dan to ask, especially considering that people online had begun to catch onto their little not-relationship and he was hyperaware of everything now. Maybe, just maybe, he’d spend a little less time worrying about being caught one day and they’d spend more intimate moments like this together in the future. Maybe.  

“Night,” he whispered, reluctantly drawing away when he felt Dan grow less and less responsive. He really _was_ tired if he was falling asleep now.

With that, he left, and after twenty minutes of staring at the pavement under his feet on the way home, he swore he’d dreamed the last five at Dan’s up.

He certainly did wish that dreams would come true.


End file.
